


I Can't Handle Change

by caswella



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswella/pseuds/caswella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love with the asshole that punched you in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Handle Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tomohisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomohisa/gifts).



> Based on the prompt: ‘I don’t know who you are but we keep running into each other on the street and getting into screaming arguments over the stupidest things and I’m actually looking forward to our next meeting bc you’re annoying as hell but gdi you’re hot as fuck and it’s kind of fun to argue with you’ au

The first time they met it wasn’t like Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers was playing, or time slowed down at the exact instance that they looked at one another. The day did not become brighter, and colours did not become more vibrant.

The first time they met, it ended with Shigeru nursing a bleeding nose and the other guy with a black eye and a split lip. The split lip looked like it would sting, and Shigeru was happy for that, but the black eye didn’t really make him happier. The other man already had dark eyes, as if he had not seen a mattress in days, and stayed awake just to spite someone.

That was fine with him, he wasn’t particularly a fan of sleeping himself, but that was only because he had two jobs and school to get through.

The man in front of him didn’t look like the studious type, he did, however, look to be the working type.

A punk with blonde hair and a permanent scowl had no place in customer service, so it made sense that he looked like some kind of construction worker. His heavy boots were dusty and covered in mud, as were the bottom of his dark jeans.

This was the kind of job that Shigeru’s Mother always told him to avoid. An office job was where he was headed. He would get that lanyard with his name on it, and sit in a cubicle doing this and that. Maybe selling insurance, possibly convincing people to invest their money into bad stocks.

Not, he thought vehemently, a low-life construction worker.

And he would have told the angry, scowling man in front of him to fuck off if he wasn’t so busy tasting globs of blood working down his throat from his bloody nose.

 

“Nice shiner, dude. When did that happen?”

Shigeru turned to his co-worker. Despite his best attempt at using dollar-store makeup, there was still a sick purpling-blue bruise on his eye. It was like he had attempted to doll himself up but in the process, instead made himself look like some battered wife.

“Got in a fight?”

“Oh shit, yeah?” Watari expertly put whip cream on top of the mocha frappuccino before capping it and calling the person's name and order.

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

That was a good question. For the life of him, Shigeru couldn’t remember what he and the construction worker had thrown punches for. From what he could recall it was the middle of the afternoon. Maybe the guy had just been looking for a fight, maybe Shigeru was. All that mattered was that he was paying for it now, with a long talk from his manager at work, odd stares from the customers, and a probation that would start tomorrow and end next week.

He pouted as he stocked up the sleeves for the hot drinks.

“Do you think I could ask for an advance on my paycheck?”

Watari hissed, and that answered that question.

Shigeru sighed and wiped down the counter.

It was slow around this time; there were a couple of college kids in the corner looking dead and trying to consume enough coffee to kickstart an entire vehicle. Even from where Shigeru was, he could see the sheen of sweat from the multiple coffees refills all of them had. Shigeru felt a solidarity with them. He just knew how to hide it better.

He busied himself with brewing more coffee and running mobile orders. While he was prepping for a tea latte he heard the heavy glass door creak open.

He turned slightly to show his acknowledgement and replied in his customer's voice. “I’ll be with you in just a minute!”

He heard a gruff affirmative, and when he turned to serve the customer he stilled.

The man in front of him had a grim expression on his face to go with his black eye. One that mirrored Yahaba’s own.

They stared at each other, eyes wide and colourful, with a myriad of purples and blues and hints of greens. How could you talk to someone and pretend you did not punch each other in the face?

“What can we get started for you today, sir?” Thank God for Watari. God bless Watari. Sweet, sweet, Watari.

“Slide with me, will you?” the shorter man whispered.

Yahaba nodded and stalked off where he could hide behind the espresso machines. There was a legitimate fear that if he opened his mouth, he would say something he would regret.

Watari and the angry construction worker talked briefly; Watari his usual charming self, replying to the taller man's gruff responses. He wrote down his drink on a sleeve, slide it onto a cup, and placed it on the bar- all the while maintaining eye contact with the other man. For some reason, this made Yahaba irrationally irritated.

While Yahaba busied himself with making the Americano he thought about the chances of this encounter. People liked coffee, it made sense that people would have a craving for it if they saw it within walking distance. But there were millions of coffee places in the city. Why did this asshole have to come to his store, on the day before his probation?

He scrunched up his face and regretted it when the motion abused his eye.

When the machine was done Yahaba filled it up with hot water, trying to ignore the delinquent that was at the handoff plane. Usually, Watari was the friendlier of the two of them, so he was glad that he decided to take over for him. A part of him desperately wanted to punch the man.

“Grande Americano for-” He looked at the name that was on the side of the cup, Watari’s quick scrawl large and bubbly. Yahaba looked him straight in the eyes when he said it. The name rolled off his tongue like a child speaking a swear word for the first time; dangerous and illicit- unknown of the consequences. “Kyoutani.”

Kyoutani, having picked up his coffee, looked down to Yahaba’s chest where his name tag sat comfortably on his apron. They were two for two now it seemed. At least he could put a name to the scowling face.

 

Yahaba didn’t mind the mid shifts. Especially during the summer when the days were longer and the nights were shorter and everyone was out with their dogs playing in the park and there was a comfort to the drying sweat accumulated on the back of his neck when the sun was setting.

A couple of young teen girls were giggling as they passed him, the three friends giving him eyes that made Yahaba feel distinctly uncomfortable but he pretended not to notice, instead fiddling with his phone and pretending to skip or delete songs. The mall on his left was starting to close down, and all the seniors, young teens and employees that spent their days in there were ever so slowly filing out. He was stuck behind them all and no amount of strafing would get him around them all.

“Jesus christ, okay then.” He wanted to avoid the mosquito bites, but it looked like a detour through the park it was.

Yahaba didn’t mind the summer - he could go without the sunburn and the sweat and the constant thirst and the cawing birds at ass o’clock in the morning. What he truly liked about it was that he could get away with staying out as late as possible and not have to worry about the frost of winter or the rain of spring. Or being at home in general.

Walking home was a conscious decision. If he took the bus it would take about half an hour, or alternatively an entire album on his IPod, which was dependent on the traffic and the number of stops. He was happy to avoid the screaming children and their mothers with their strollers that held the entirety of their possessions and then some.

Walking was much more peaceful. It was a comfort. It let him have time to think, or not think at all. The trees and dense bushes thankfully shaded him and from the sun and the walk was much more pleasant than anticipated, though he could sense people staring at his bruises on his face.

Cicadas buzzed, and he somewhat felt as if was in another world. From the water park, kids screamed and ran around while others were having their parents put sunscreen on them. Many dogs were also running around, chasing balls or the toddlers through the water. He smiled and wondered if he ever had the chance to play in a water park when he was a child.

What he could remember was when he would play pretend. He was in a magical kingdom sent to destroy some kind of evil monster. The most vivid part of the memory was when he would just end up smacking himself in the face with a stick sword. He could still remember where he had got the scratch on his face. He had been so worried that his mother would be mad at him that he had hidden in the bushes for an hour until a policeman had found him. Nanny number four didn’t last long after that.

From the bushes came a rustling. If Yahaba’s one headphone had been working he might have missed it. He gripped his cracked phone and jumped once more when the bush rustled again.

He would rather try his best to avoid a raccoon, or worse yet, a skunk. A possum he could deal with, even, but he held his breath and stayed still none the less. Small animals were not his favourite.

“Stella!”

From the bushes burst a small brown bulldozer of fur, jumping up and knocking Yahaba over onto his ass. Before he could crawl away the animal was jumping up on his chest licking his face and yipping.

“Ugh, come on.”

“Stella, no! Stop it.”

The dog in his lap would not stop, and continued to lick his face. He spluttered more and tried to push the dog off with little success, his palms stinging from where he had caught himself until the shadow of its owner eclipsed him and lifted the dog from Yahaba’s chest. He now smelt like dog and espresso. Perfect.

“Bad dog,” came the gruff voice of a man he recognized.

“No kidding.” He glared at Kyoutani, feeling the slobber start to dry on his face, “keep your dog on a leash man.”

Tired eyes glared at him as the angry looking man held the dog against his chest.

“She only attacks assholes, so maybe that’s something you need to work on.”

Kyoutani glared back at Yahaba, ignoring the squirming dog he held in his arms. What were the chances that he was here? Why was he here? How was he here?

With a grace he didn’t know he had Yahaba lifted himself from the ground, hands aching from the scraping against the gravel, but he refused to let the hurt show on his face. Instead, he smirked, eyes narrowed at the angry looking man with the puppy in front of him.

“You stalking me?”

The puppy continued to squirm and yip, and Kyoutani continued to ignore it. The menacing aura he tried to convey was severely diminished with a boxer puppy trying to wriggle free from his muscular arms.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I took my dog for a walk.”

“Oh yeah, the dog that attacked me.”

“Yeah, that vicious attacked that left you mutilated.”

“Maybe if you trained it better it wouldn’t jump up on strangers.”

“Her name is Stella.”

“What?”

“My dog. Her name is Stella.”

The dog had stopped squirming, seeming to have tired herself out. Stella yawned and smacked her lips before huffing and lying on Kyoutani’s shoulder. It was difficult to not blush and coo at how adorable the picture was. The only thing ruining it was Kyoutani.

“Stella, sure, whatever. Just make sure she doesn’t knock me over again.”

“She weighs like nothing, you are weak as shit.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!”

“Excuse me!”

They both turned towards a hefty looking mother with a babbling toddler strapped to her chest. The orange tracksuit she wore drew Yahaba’s eyes to all the wrong places, and with a flush, he looked at the ground sheepishly. She looked ready to fight both of them if they didn’t get out of the way and stop their swearing.

“This is a _public_ park. Watch your language.”

Sweat made itself known as it rolled down Yahaba’s neck and into the collar of his work shirt. He wasn’t aware until now how he still smelt like mocha and wondered if that was the reason why Stella had come running after him. Which would make this entire situation his fault, in the end?

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison, imitating standing in front of a superior officer.

The mother nodded, and continued on her way at a brisk pace. Once she was far enough away Yahaba turned back to Kyoutani, but he was busy slowly rocking back and forth with Stella in his arms.

He wasn’t even aware that he was doing it. He was rocking a puppy back and forth with a scowl on his face. Yahaba tried to contain his laugh but still let it out, clutching at his stomach.

“What?”

“You’re rocking your dog back and forth like a baby.”

Kyoutani stopped his movement and looked at Yahaba with the biggest, brightest blush he had ever seen on a person. It encompassed his entire face, and the look of astonishment made Yahaba laugh even more.

“Fuck you man. She’s a puppy.”

Even with the fluorescence that was Kyoutani’s face, he went back to rocking Stella in his arms, a pout on his lips that kept Yahaba from making fun of him further. Despite his black eye and his split lip, it was cute. Kyoutani was kind of cute when he was blushing.

“Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Hm?”

He gestured at his own face, towards his own black eye.

“Oh.” He gently touched the purple skin underneath his eye and winced, like he had forgotten about the bruises existence until Yahaba had pointed it out. Did he get into fights often?

“Whatever. It was a lucky punch.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He scoffed. He was sure that it was a lucky punch, whatever it was it was a lucky punch for. He was sure this would probably be the last time Kyoutani and he would meet. It was just bad timing, a trick of fate that they would run into each other again. The city was huge and the chances, which were already slim, were going to prove themselves true. Yahaba and Kyoutani would cease to interact again, and Yahaba could go back to working and studying without the interruption of a punch in the face.

“Well…” he shifted uncomfortably, phone still clutched in his hand. It vibrated, jolting him, and Kyoutani narrowed his eyes. The caller ID said Dr. Y and he panicked.

“Shit. I gotta go. See you around.” He hoped he wouldn’t, even if it was fun to rile the other man up.

 

Bruises on Yahaba’s face were an uncommon occurrence, in fact, Yahaba had never gotten into a fight before in his life. When his mother finally got a good look at his face he would be in deep shit, and when she found out about his probation at work she would most likely lose her shit as well. But avoiding her for close to a week apparently set something off, and here he was, trying to figure out the best way to break into his own house to avoid her.

The tree close to his bedroom window was too thin to hold his weight, and the pipe was too old to climb up. His neighbours probably had a ladder, but the noise would probably alert them, or worse yet, his mom to what he was trying to do. His phone vibrated again, an incoming call he had no intention of answering, just like the other six.

He tried to discreetly peer into the window into her study, though the blinds and curtains were pulled down and drawn. He doubted he would have been able to tell if she was even in there anyway; she sat just as motionless like anything else in the room, just another piece of the decour most of the time.

“Yahaba-chan!”

“Fu--” He fell over and clutched at his chest, his heart now beating a hundred miles an hour.

From next door, Oikawa-senpai's pretty face peered over the fence.

“Oikawa-senpai,” he whispered harshly, “please be quiet!”

“That’s no way to talk to your senpai.”

“I’ll forgive you if you let me hang out at your house for the night!”

Oikawa pouted but rolled his eyes. Despite the small age gap, Yahaba knew Oikawa had a hard time denying a kouhai, and he planned to take advantage of that.

“Fine, fine! I’ll save my beloved kouhai from whatever wicked evil he is trying to hide from! Hop on over!”

 

“Are you trying to avoid Auntie again?”

Oikawa was throwing a volleyball up in the air while lounging on his bed, while Yahaba was trying to finish up an outline for an essay that he had neglected to do two weeks ago. He ignored the question but felt himself falter in his writing none the less. Oikawa noticed.

“You know she just wants what's best for you, right?”

“Maybe what’s best for her, sure.”

From the bed came such a long sigh that Yahaba had to turn and look at Oikawa, peeved. Yahaba didn’t understand Oikawa’s decision to side with his mother, what he did know was that he didn’t more pressure on him from Dr. Yahaba or her psychoanalyzing. Oikawa thought himself able to read people, he had nothing to his mother.

“Have you tried telling her that?”

“That her selfish ideals that she pushes onto me are a product of her own shortcomings? Why would I do that?”

“Uh, no. I meant to tell her that you are trying your best?”

Yahaba felt the mechanical pencil creak in his hand and he dropped it onto his notebook. He leaned over his work and gripped at his hair, wanting to tear it out but instead furiously rubbing it instead. When he was done he turned to Oikawa on the bed, face flushed and glaring.

“Then she would say that I should try the best of someone better. There is no winning with her, and I would rather just avoid it all.”

“So move out?”

“You know she controls my bank account. She would never let me out of her sight if she had it her way.”

Another long sigh from the bed, followed by the soft sound of rubber catching against the skin.

“Yeah.” He whispered. “No kidding.”

 

Oikawa was an ugly sleeper, and he sometimes snored. He had no idea but Yahaba found it infinitely hilarious. If Oikawa knew he was pretty sure that the other man would never let anyone have a sleepover again.

He was familiar with sleeping on Oikawa’s floor. Many study sessions that were accompanied by either Iwaizumi-senpai or Matsukawa and Hanamaki. He supposed he should thank his mother for getting his own little tutors for him, or else he would never have met Oikawa in the first place.

Twelve missed calls. After the seventh, he had texted her and said that he would be home sometimes tomorrow- a late night study session with Watari was always his go to. If she knew how close he really was he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t break into the house to drag him back and scold him. The idea left him sleepless, and no amount of counting Oikawa’s glow in the dark stars on his ceiling would do the trick.

There was forty percent battery left on his phone, so no youtube videos.

His phone vibrated. Watari had sent him a text message.

_Look who’s at this drinking party!_

The image attached left him scolding.

From behind Watari’s stealthy selfie was Kyoutani, solemnly drinking in the corner. That was four times in the last week Yahaba was subjected to the sight of the other man and it was starting to get irritating.

How did they somehow run in the same circle? How was it they were only now interacting? Why was it a terrifying concept that Kyoutani might become a staple in his life?

He needed Kyoutani as a friend as he needed a bullet in his head.

Furiously texting back he hit send before he knew what he was saying.

_Tell him to go fuck himself_

 

His phone was vibrating, and he wanted to die. He had forgotten to turn off his 5AM alarm. It was too early and he just wanted to continue to sleep, but he was probably overstaying his welcome in Oikawa’s place.

When he got up he tried his best to rub the sleep from his eyes. Oikawa was still drooling into his pillow like some oversized baby and his hair was like a birds nest. He snapped a picture to post on snap chat later and gathered up his things.

The air was warm with early morning summer weather. The day promised high humidity that would kill Yahaba’s hair, but for now, he could take a walk over to IHop or Denny’s or McDonalds to get a quick breakfast. Another day of avoiding his mother. When was she going to send the SWAT team for him, he wondered.

Ignoring the gross feeling of wearing yesterday's sweaty clothes he left Oikawa’s house. He wondered how long he would have to sleep at his friend's places until the bruises were easier to cover.

The park from yesterday was peaceful at this time of day. So far he had only seen three people and five cars on his shortcut to breakfast.

Yawning he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He didn’t really know what to do with himself at this time of day. Usually, he would be working by now, trying to serve as many people as possible their shitty coffee and asking people for their names, and still screwing them all up.

Already smelling the grease that was McDonald’s, Yahaba felt his stomach whine loudly in protest. He hadn’t eaten in since lunch yesterday, and he could eat a whole horse if it was put in front of him.

He turned the corner and tripped over a pile of dogs.

“Fuck!”

“Are you okay!”

Dogs were sniffing at him and trying to lick his face. He appreciated their concern, but he could only fall so many times in one week before it was too much.

The voice above him scowled. “Oh. You.”

Not again.

He slowly got up feeling light headed.

“Seriously? How many times will I run into you?”

Kyoutani was a champion of glaring, in fact, he could probably go into the Olympics of glaring if he wanted to. Then his face shifted from irritated to shocked, and Yahaba felt something warm touch his lip and slide down his chin.

“Shit.” He quickly pinched his nose and tilted his head up.

 

Stuffing McDonald's napkins up your nose was probably super attractive.

At least they were outside so not everyone in the place was looking at him. Just Kyoutani and his six dogs. Amongst them, he could see Stella, the youngest of the bunch.

“Here.”

Kyoutani placed down a small greasy bag in front of him, before sipping a small coffee for himself. Skeptically, Yahaba looked inside.

“You got me a breakfast egg McMuffin?”

“Yeah… sorry,” he blushed, rubbing his neck, “about before. And yesterday, and today, I guess.”

He scoffed, finding the situation humourous. He knew Kyoutani wasn’t sorry for punching him, and he wasn’t sorry for yesterday either, and the jury was still out on this morning, even with the bloody nose, but he accepted the apology anyway. He was tired and didn’t want to fight.

“Sure. Apology accepted. So-”

Kyoutani looked up from where he was petting a dalmatian.

“You’re a dog walker?”

Kyoutani gave him a strange look, a look that told him he was an idiot. A look that Yahaba didn’t appreciate. “What gave you that idea?”

“Hey, asshole, I’m trying to make conversation.”

“Well, don’t ask obvious questions.”

“It was a way for you to segway as to _why_ you’re a dog walker.”

“I got a job as a dog walker. The end.”

Unbelievable. He rolled his eyes and took out the napkins from his nostrils.

“You’re fucking impossible.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence, both fuming before one of the dogs started to get restless and whine at Kyoutani.

“Got it, got it. Give me a minute.”

He took out a container from his bag and when he opened the lid it was revealed to be dog food. All the other dogs perked up.

“Yes, you’re all getting fed, calm down. Sit.” All of them, with the exception of Stella, sat down, tails wagging with excitement.

Yahaba pretended not to be interested in the proceedings, pretended to be engrossed with his breakfast, but the way Kyoutani handled all the dogs calmly was interesting, and his commanding tone was received well with all of them. He could see that he wasn’t as much of an asshole when it came to dogs.

Did he always take the dogs for walks around here? How come he had never run into him before? He was pretty sure he recognized a dog or two from the neighbourhood. Did he do this to make some extra cash? How much did a dog walker get paid anyway?

Once all the dogs were fed Yahaba felt sweaty with the rising sun. It was close to seven now. He was sure his mother had probably already gone to work, so he was safe to go back home, but he didn’t want to leave yet. Infuriatingly enough, even with all the arguing, he was having a good time with Kyoutani. He was free to talk back to him and Kyoutani knew how to dish it back. It felt good.

“Say.”

Kyoutani looked at him where he was putting away all the dog food.

“Do you need some company?”

 

For days he had been joining Kyoutani for his dog walking. They argued almost every step of the way, stupid, useless things over what colour was the best (it was blue), what breakfast food was the tastiest (it was eggs benedict), and yelling over what was the superior series, Star Wars or Star Trek (it was Star Trek). This argument almost came to blows.

After a while, it started to become comforting in its own right. Yahaba never had any stake in the arguments they had, and after their first one, they had never felt the need to throw punches at each other. It was nice to walk around and not have any expectations to meet.

Kyoutani walked about seven dogs almost every day of the week, with his weekends free to work on a construction site Yahaba had little interested in, with the exception of the people in the stories that Kyoutani would tell. Turned out construction workers were hilarious.

On occasion, Yahaba felt like he was also being walked. He felt less restless after about half an hour, and after four hours he was just as tired as the dogs. They didn’t even flinch when Kyoutani and he argued with each other.

They always ended their walk at that park where Stella first knocked him over, and sometimes he worried that the close proximity to his house invited disaster. Somehow his mother would find out that he had been suspended from work and that he was skipping classes he had no interest in going to.

His desire to rebel was starting to overthrow his desire to appease, to gain approval.

He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind and sat down on a worn down the green bench, the brass memorial rusted and hardly legible. Kyoutani slowly unhooked all the dogs leashes, except for the little boxer puppy Stella, who was looking around frantically and wagging her stubby tail so hard her entire bottom half of her body was moving left and right with the force.

She was by and far the most excitable and Kyoutani was crouched down trying to give commands that went unheeded, instead he wound up getting a face full of puppy kisses. It was adorable to watch Kyoutani frown at the loving gesture and Yahaba felt his face split into a grin that was difficult to suppress.

A whine came from beside him, and when he looked he saw some sort of chocolate lab mix with white paws, a shiny tag proclaiming him “Socks”, and a yellowed tennis ball in his mouth. When Yahaba did nothing Socks whined and dropped the ball onto the ground and laid down in front of it, rolling it closer with his nose.

Shit, he was being guilted into playing catch.

Sock’s tail wagged and thumped on the ground expectedly, looking up at Yahaba with big brown eyes. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?”

Kyoutani was still trying to get Stella to roll over, and having no success, evident by the way Stella kept getting distracted by grass, flowers, and currently, a butterfly. Shit.

They hadn’t talked about whether or not Yahaba had express permission to play with the dogs. After all, this was Kyoutani’s job, and he didn’t want to take it away from him, or get the dogs too riled up and then leave Kyoutani with the mess.

Socks whined again and Yahaba rubbed his face in frustration.

“Okay, okay. Shit, you’re adorable.” He stood up and Socks went nuts, pacing in front of Yahaba excitedly.

“Yes, okay. I’ll play with you.”

He threw the ball and Socks shot off like a bullet, barking and almost tripping in his haste. He snorted and continued to play with him for many more minutes. It was fun- why hadn’t he gotten a pet yet? They were great. They got you out of the house, they were cute, they cared about you in the most simplistic of ways, and always excited to see you. He should get a dog.

A dog that wasn’t Socks dropped the ball in front of him, and that’s when Yahaba noticed that he had been playing catch with not one, not two, but almost an entire horde of dogs. He nervously gripped the beaten and tattered tennis ball in his hand and looked out among the excited dogs to try to recognize which ones were a part of Kyoutani’s group and which were not.

“Where the hell did all these other dogs come from?”

At Kyoutani’s feet was Stella, stumpy tail still wagging. Yahaba had a moment to be impressed that Kyoutani had taught the puppy to sit before he fell back into the predicament at hand.

“I have no clue. I was playing catch with Socks.”

Although he was used to the idea of yelling at each other, he didn’t want it now.

He was bracing for impact, head tilted down and eyes firmly on the ground when he heard the beginnings of a rumbling, slowly turning into loud guffaws.

Kyoutani was laughing.

It was a loud sound that reminded Yahaba of the beach in the summer, fresh and clean and all encompassing. Seeing it felt like a privilege that many people were not privy to; thinking that left Yahaba feeling flushed and warm inside.

The dichotomy between seeing Kyoutani laughing with the black eyes was jarring because Yahaba was intimately aware of being responsible for both. It looked and felt like a masterpiece of emotions and actions. He wanted to capture this moment so bad that he could taste it.

Then it was gone.

Stella barked and yelped to get Kyoutani’s attention back at her. All the dogs that had encroached on the pack were gone, back to their original owners, hopefully.

Socks was beside him once again, looking up at Yahaba. If felt as if the chocolate lab had witnessed Yahaba’s descent into madness. He liked Kyoutani.

He was fucked. He was so fucked. So, so fucked.

 

For years Yahaba wanted to put stars on his ceiling. Oikawa-senpai did it and it looked nice, calming. He needed that.

Instead, he had a blank ceiling with the same blank walls. He was pretty sure that he had pictures and toys when he was younger, but now, nothing. It was utilitarian in the truest sense. Everything had a purpose, designed to sustain. It didn’t look like a room that belonged to a teenager. It looked like it belonged to a convicted felon fresh on parole.

His mother was due home in about an hour. He could probably pretend to go to bed to avoid any awkward conversations that she was bound to start.

Or…

Or he could call Kyoutani.

The cellphone in his pocket felt a thousand times heavier all of a sudden. The concept of calling the angry looking dog walker made his inside twist and turn uncomfortably. He enjoyed being with him. More than he had thought he ever would.

What could he be doing right now, he wondered? What did he do for fun? Did he have hobbies like knitting? That would be pretty funny.

He scrunched up his face for a moment.

When he took out his phone there was a message waiting for him. An image requested to be downloaded and hesitantly Yahaba accepted.

It was a little blurry, but it was clearly Stella in the picture, asleep face first in her dog bowl.

_We tuckered her out_

He felt his heart swell in his chest, wishing it was indigestion, but knowing it wasn’t.

God, he was cute. Kyoutani was super cute. So cute he had to beat his pillow furiously. How could someone so scary looking be so cute?

_Too cute. Youre killing me._

He meant both of them but he felt a thrill at sending those words. Kyoutani wouldn't know he was being referred to, and Yahaba could lay in bed and pretend that he had confessed with no consequences.

_Let me come over_

It was late and he probably had to get up early; it was probably a small apartment, and he didn’t want to impose or rile Stella up-

An address buzzed onto his screen . He felt giddy as all hell.

 

“Welcome.”

“Sorry for the intrusion.”

He could hear the rhythmic clacking of paws running at high speed. From around the corner, Stella came sliding in, slipping on her face before righting herself and jumping at Yahaba. She certainly seemed energetic now.

“Stella, down. You know the rules.”

She ignored him. Yahaba tried not to laugh and tried to give Stella a stern look that had absolutely no power behind it.

“Stella, sit.”

She sat, then huffed, body shaking with the force of her excitement at a new person in the house.

Kyoutani glared, “what the fuck?”

“Ha! I’m the alpha now!”

“Whatever.” Without a backwards glance Kyoutani went further into the apartment. Stella jumped up to follow him, trailing behind with a soft clacking of her nails against the wood floor.

Yahaba was pretty sure he was going to get a cavity with how sweet the image was.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Just water is fine.”

“Don’t you work at a coffee shop?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s the only thing I drink.”

“Makes sense. I’m still amazed your smile is as nice as it is with all the coffee you drink.”

Kyoutani busied himself with getting Yahaba’s drink, his shoulders tense, and from what he could see his ears turning an interesting shade of pink. When he turned to give Yahaba his water not only were his ears pink but so was the rest of his face too.

He was going to die. For real. Holy shit.

“Thank you.” He croaked out, voice cracking along the way. He emptied it in one go. Was it hot in here?

From the living room came a clatter, followed by a yelp.

“Shit.” They both said, the moment gone.

 

“I’m not saying he was wrong,” Yahaba started, more relaxed since Kyoutani offered beer, “I’m just saying it would have been better if they signed the registration. It would have helped for contingencies. The concept was pretty good.”

Four empty bottles sat on the coffee table in front of him, all of which had a coaster underneath them because Yahaba was a good guest.

Kyoutani waved his hand in the air, his own cornucopia of empty beer bottles in front of him. None of them had coasters underneath them. He let out an angry sigh of air at Yahaba that made the guest snicker where he sat on the end of the couch.

“Are you an idiot? Do you have any idea how dangerous the registration act was?”

“Hey, look,” he shifted up slightly, but the world was a little weird so he leaned back on the armrest again, “I know Tony Stark was an ass about it but he had some valid points. And don’t tell me real life superheroes wouldn’t go for it! It’s basically like insurance.”

“Fuck him, man.”

“Hey! He’s had a tough life! Leave Tony Stark alone.”

“I will when he stops being a prick.”

“He’s better than a holier than thou, sanctimonious ass like Captain America.”

Kyoutani tried his best to glare at the man at the other end of the couch, but his flushed face ruined the illusion. “Steve Rogers is a better man than anyone in the Marvel universe could hope to be.”

“Except for people like Ms. Marvel and Miles Morales.”

Kyoutani opened his mouth to reply but closed it in silent agreement.

From the middle cushion, Stella yawned. Shit, it was late, and when he checked his phone he noticed it was almost two in the morning, and he had four missed calls.No more trains were running, and it was too late to call back.

“You can stay over.”

He looked up from his phone, bites his lip, unsure of the kindness that Kyoutani is willing to give him.“Yeah?”

“Sure. The couch okay?”

He jumped in place a little and turned back to Kyoutani with a cheeky smile, “I’ll make due.”

The blush on Kyoutani’s cheek could have very well have been from the alcohol, but Yahaba liked to think it was because he was embarrassed instead. “Whatever. Night.”

 

There is so much more that he wants from Yahaba. He’s soft in the most unexpected of ways- things that he would never have guessed could make Yahaba smile.

Kyoutani frowns at his phone and at the cupcakes he’s trying to match. It’s not like he’s in love with the guy or anything, and while he fails the level he can almost convince himself of that fact if it didn’t feel like a downright lie.

There were a lot of things that people could fall in love with when it came to Yahaba.

The way that he bites his lips is apocalyptic. It sets off warning bells in Kyoutani’s head - sirens blaring between his ears, incessant. The way he laughs at a shitty joke, even the really dirty ones that Kyoutani can’t help but blush at as he’s saying them. And then there’s the way he smiles softly at the dogs when he pets them and coos at whatever antics they get up to. And the way he dressed with confidence and walked? That shit was unnecessary.

He was in love with Yahaba, and it was the worst thing to ever happen to him.

How could this happen to him? How could he let down his guard? Yahaba walked into his life with his perfect hair and evil smirk and his perfect long fingers, curled into fists, hitting him in the face. The shock of the smooth fingers connecting with his face was more appalling than the pain he was supposed to be experiencing. Yahaba was beautiful but so full of rage. It was jarring and confusing but intriguing none the less.

Ever since Yahaba punched him in the face he had a hard time forgetting about it, mainly for two reasons. One, Yahaba had punched him in the face, and it was difficult in general to forget such an encounter. Two, Yahaba’s smile was blinding, even with blood pooling in his mouth and pushing out between his tombstone like teeth.

Kyoutani was probably a masochist, but it wouldn’t stop him from wanting the angry blond haired barista. Every second they spent together left Kyoutani heart racing, and he wished he would just have a heart attack instead of hoping for something that would probably never happen.

From where he was sitting on the bed he could see Stella twitching on her small bed. Another dream, probably.

He vaguely wondered what it was that dogs dreamed about. Was it all cats, car bumpers, and tails? Were they always chasing something that they couldn’t catch? Or was there a chance that they dreamed of other things besides the unattainable? That they dreamed of important persons the same way they dreamed of fire hydrants.

Stella was a great dog, and an even better judge of character, with the way she either growled at potential threats or jumped at friendly individuals. He hoped that meant he didn’t misplace his feelings with Yahaba because Stella loved the blond an inordinate amount. It took a good fifteen minutes to calm her whining to join the other man in the living room instead of her usual sleeping spot on Kyoutani’s bedroom floor.

Though he couldn’t blame her for wanting to join Yahaba, because he wanted to just as bad.

The sound of traffic was far off as if submerged under water. The sound usually comforted and soothed Kyoutani in a way that was better than any kind of lullaby, but the knowledge of Yahaba on his couch left him too nervous to peacefully fall asleep.

The fantastical image of Yahaba opening his door and asking him to sleep in the same bed left him shifting and struggling to focus on nothing. He could imagine Yahaba slowly getting under the covers with him and soon they would fall asleep together, legs tangled and breathing synchronized like an orchestra.

But that wasn’t going to happen because Kyoutani was first and foremost a coward, and secondly, he was a dreamer, and dreams never came true.

Stella huffed in her sleep once more. He hoped she caught whatever it was she was chasing because he knew never could.

 

The weight on his chest accompanied dog breath and slobber on his face, along with sharp puppy claws digging into his collarbone meant that it was 5AM and that it was time to go for their morning walk.

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Give me a minute.”

She rolled down his chest when he lifted himself to rub the sleep from his eyes. The yapping and barking were par for the course when it came to waking up nowadays, and usually, he wouldn’t care about the noise. He lived in the very corner of the building and so far none of his neighbours had come to his door to complain about the racket.

But Yahaba was here, and was probably still sleeping, and because he was an idiot in love he cared about the amount of sleep the other man got.

“Stella.” He snapped his fingers and the puppy tried her best to quiet down, though her little body was still vibrating with energy and her stubby tail was still wagging fiercely.

When he opened the door Stella bolted for the kitchen where the smell of bacon and eggs was strong and overwhelming. Kyoutani cursed at how domestic it was.

The blanket that he had given Yahaba was threadbare, but enough in the muggy heat they had been experiencing. When he lifted the thing to fold it he caught the scent of coconut and couldn’t help but bring it closer to inhale. Not only was Yahaba beautiful, but he smelled good. It pissed him off like nothing else.

From the kitchen he could hear the orchestra of pots and pans making music, banging cutlery that made him think of younger days when his dad would make Sunday morning breakfast and only minimally succeeding.

When he peeked in Yahaba was turning down the stovetop and trying to look for Stella’s food at the same time. That was going to end in a disaster.

“Where is your food…”

Impatient, Stella ran around his feet before going towards the bottom cupboard where he left her food.

As Yahaba poured out way too much food for her he wondered what it would be like if this was a regular occurrence. What would it be like if Kyoutani woke up every morning and Yahaba was in his kitchen, making breakfast? What if he was wearing boxers and a t-shirt he had borrowed from Kyoutani? The pinnacle of comfortable and at home.

It would never happen, so he had this moment to memorize, and he planned to do as such.

“You going to stand there all day? Sorry, I took over your kitchen but I was super hungry. I made us some eggs.” He gestured towards the stove where he had tried to make sunny side up but had gone with scrambled instead. Kyoutani was too busy focusing on the ‘us’ part of his sentence.

Us. Kill me, he thought.

“Yeah. I heard. Kind of hard to miss with the noise you were making.” Goddamnit.

“Well excuse me for making your food.”

“Right. No. Sorry. Thank you.”

“Was that so hard?”

He gritted his teeth, “yes.”

Yahaba shook his head and rolled his eyes, though the smile on his face said it was all in good nature.

He didn’t want this to end today. He wanted to keep hanging out with him. He wanted to spend the day with Yahaba. He could probably spend the rest of his life with him.

Face glowing at the thought he leaned against the counter where Yahaba was frowning at his scrambled eggs.

“Um… did you…”

Yahaba looked at him expectedly, still pushing the breakfast around in Kyoutani’s one good pan.

“Did you maybe… want to go shopping with me? Today?”

 

“So what is this for?”

He tried on another shirt, wishing he had thought up a better idea to invite Yahaba to. He didn’t need anything, he just thought this would be a task that he could get away with having Yahaba around all day. Yahaba was stylish and dressed well, while simultaneously pretending he had thrown on his clothes instead. Kyoutani was comfortable in a black or white t-shirt and jeans, evident by the five other black t-shirts he had hung up beside him in the dressing room.

“Um… a… date?”

No, not a date. Maybe, because he wanted to think that was what this was, but it didn’t count if Yahaba didn’t know it was either

“Your face is horrible so I’m surprised they said ‘yes’”

“Fuck you.”

“But you’re buff, so I can see why they agreed.”

Kyoutani stilled; mind racing. He wondered what Yahaba was thinking on the other side of the curtain.

“You okay in there?”

He kept silent, face flaming. He was starting to think he might die if any more of his blood started to go to his face.

From outside he could hear Yahaba rise from the crinkly sofa. Underneath the maroon curtain, he could see the comfortable loafers that Yahaba wore.

“Kyoutani?”

The blond head poked inside and Kyoutani jumped at seeing him. He was stripped down to his boxer briefs, one leg in his ratty jeans. The silence was all encompassing and heavy, he expected either one of them to do something, but he knew the moment would pass before they would reach for it.

Yahaba’s eyes slid down Kyoutani’s chest, and then all over him. He had never felt so exposed in his life, and he was on his way to a hard on if Yahaba kept looking at him like that.

“That shirt. Before. It was, um… it was good. Get it.”

“Right. I will.”

“Good. Um… I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah. I’ll be right out.”

Yahaba nodded, took one last look at Kyoutani, then bolted, the heavy curtain waving in his wake. Kyoutani put his face in his hands and breathed deeply.

“Jesus Christ.”

 

The train ride home was one of the most relaxing Yahaba had ever had. He had done nothing all day, except for hang out with Kyoutani.

So, Kyoutani. He probably liked him more than he should have, considering they had punched each other in the face the first time they met.

Look how far they had come, he thought, snorting.

He was in such a good mood that when his phone started vibrating he answered it, not bothering to look at the ID.

“Hello?”

“I see you’re not dead!”

Shit.

“Yeah. Mom, I’ve been super busy with work and school.”

“Well, from what I can see from your bank account, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Fuck.

“I can explain that.”

“Please tell me Shigeru.”

“I needed… I needed a break.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, all except for the harsh breathing that meant his mother was close to a breakdown.

“A break?”

“I’ve been stressed out and needed to take a break. I’ve talked to a counsellor at school and everything.”

“I see.”

More tense silence. He had the advantage of not being in front of her, so she wouldn’t be able to read his movements and twitches that he had trained so hard to suppress. His voice, on the other hand, was tough to mask, especially when he hadn’t had time to prepare his lie.

“I think in the long run it will help out. With this, I can focus on school work that is coming up.”

She huffed on the other end of the line.

“That doesn’t explain why you haven’t been coming home.” He could hear the creaking of her leather desk chair. The image of her leaning back in her office assaulted him, and all the times he had stood in front of that mahogany desk to be scolded.

“I get distracted at home. If I come home I want to sleep, so I go to Watari’s or another friends house to work on stuff.”

Was she buying it? God, please let her be buying it.

“What other friends?”

“Hm?”

“What other friends? If it was Oikawa you would have said Oikawa but you didn’t. Have you met a girl?”

“A girl from your university? Is she in your business class?”

No, because he hated business and hated going to school. He hated how his mother picked out everything for him and how he felt like less of an adult because of it. He didn’t know how to do much of anything without the help of Watari. Watari was the one that helped him do his taxes because his mother was adamant on doing it herself. He wanted to be independent, but in avoiding and skipping, he was being childish. It was the only way he knew how to get back at her.

But Kyoutani… Kyoutani wasn’t part of any of that. Kyoutani was his, not corrupted by his home life. Kyoutani was the type of person who wouldn’t laugh at him for his lack of knowledge. Because Kyoutani was kind and fun to be around and he loved him.

Oh, fuck. Oh no.

“I gotta go, mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Shigeru wait-”

He hung up and got off at the next stop.

 

There was no chance of another walk if the rain wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, which was shitty because that meant that he had to try to exhaust a puppy in a small one bedroom apartment.

Stella was trying to destroy a piece of rope at his feet while the weatherman in front of him smiled and warned people not to drive too fast in fear of hydroplaning. He could hardly afford to feed himself, much less afford a car. He changed the channel and the doorbell rang.

Stella perked up and barked once before bolting off for the front door. He would have to train her to wait back.

The person on the other side of the door knocked again, incessantly, and he scowled. People could be so impatient.

“I’m coming!”

When he opened the door he was ready to throw an insult, but Yahaba was standing there, soaked to the bone and looking wrung out.

“Hey, sorry, could I come in?”

Kyoutani nodded, looking at the matted down hair on Yahaba’s forehead and how his shoulders were soaked through with summer rain. What had made Yahaba turn around?

“Come in. Do you want some coffee? Tea?”

“Tea, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah. Here, let me get you a towel.”

Strangely, Stella was huffing and on her best behavior. Maybe she could sense something was wrong?

Yahaba took his shoes off at the door while Kyoutani rummaged through his clean laundry on his bed to find a towel. Was there something wrong? Did it have something to do with the calls he got a lot? About his home life? About school or his job?

When he came back Yahaba was still standing in the entranceway awkwardly, like he was thinking so hard it had short circuited his brain beyond repair.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. Just-” He stopped, swallowed a lump in his throat, then choked out, “I just didn’t want to go home.”

Shocked, scared and most of all worried, Kyoutani moved forward and draped the towel on Yahaba’s head and gently rubbed to get rid of as much moisture as possible. Yahaba hid his face behind the towel as much as Kyoutani was. He was afraid if they looked at each other they would both reveal something they weren’t ready to talk about.

“Can I stay here?” The other man whispered, broken. Kyoutani felt broken for him.

“Of course.”

At their, feet Stella whined.

 

It was late and Yahaba was on the couch again. It was comforting. He felt safe here, with Kyoutani in the other room, with the stove fan on, whirring a rhythm that was easy to fall asleep to. Mostly, it didn’t look anything like his room, so he didn’t feel odd, even if it was a couch instead of an actual bed.

He had turned off his phone hours ago, too afraid that his mother would call him again and ask questions that he wouldn’t know how to answer. Did he want to continue with business? If not what else was there? Was he going to get married to a nice young girl who also planned to make tons of money? What about his other life aspirations? What were they? What did he want to do for the rest of his life?

He didn’t know.

But he knew who he wanted to spend it with.

“Fuck.”

Shit.

From the darkened corner came a whisper, “hey.”

The silhouette of Kyoutani in nothing but a pair of sweats left Yahaba reeling. What would it be like to sleep next to him in nothing? Skin to skin?

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

He didn’t really know how to answer that. He felt mostly numb.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you… want to talk about it?”

“Why?”

“Because it will make you feel better?”

Yahaba got up from where he was lying on the couch. Kyoutani took it as an invitation to sit down next to him. They were close but refused to look at each other.

“It’s stupid. Feeling like this is pointless. My mom is right. I need to take business if I want to become successful, I need to study and make good impressions on people to move up in the world, I lash out because I feel trapped and that makes me childish, even though I try so hard to be an adult. I’m useless.”

“You’re not useless. You can do whatever you want.”

Yahaba believed him. Kyoutani had said literally _nothing_ and Yahaba held Kyoutani’s word in such high regard that he believed him almost immediately.

But of course, there were other matters to worry about.

“Are we friends, Kyoutani?” He spit out. He played with the hem of the shirt that Kyoutani let him borrow.

Kyoutani frowned, motions slow in the moonlight. His hands clasped together like he was psyching himself up to say something. Something Yahaba wouldn’t like.

“I don’t know.”

He was gutted. He had thought that they were close enough to be considered friends, even with Yahaba’s feelings for the other man. Now that Yahaba had inquired upon their relationship he was showing his hand- he was showing how much the answer mattered to him. He had been hoping for an affirmation, something to get rid of the insecurity that was eating him up.

And now he was left standing in front of Kyoutani, minus a friend he never even had.

There was no point in crying over it. If Kyoutani wanted to be a lone wolf, let him. Yahaba had other things he needed to focus on: school, his career, actual friends. Not whatever this thing between Kyoutani and him.

“Fine.” It wasn’t fine, but it was the best he could choke out between the rage and disbelief. He refused to be sad.

Kyoutani looked decidedly uncomfortable like he would rather be anywhere else.

Yahaba picked up his pack beside the couch to leave, suddenly feeling like the apartment was too big yet too small in the dark for how he was feeling. Being so close to Kyoutani was like standing next to a fire. The last place he wanted to return to was home but other than where he currently was, he didn’t know where else to go.

When he stood at the threshold of the door and the outside world hesitated, but played it off as just toeing his shoes back on.

“Yahaba.”

He closed the door, quietly and calmly. Everything he wasn’t.

The air smelled clean and fresh; no Tokyo smog to breathe in. There was no evidence of the rain from before. He wanted to scream but held it in. It was still early and the last thing he wanted to cause was a disturbance.

“Shigeru!”

He looked up at the where Kyoutani was; his face was pinched and furious. The way he gripped the guard rail told Shigeru that his anger was the kind that could make a person shake - he knew what that felt like.

“Only friends use each other’s first names.” He yelled at him. He didn’t care that it was late.

“Yeah… Look, just hold on.” He started for the stairs, taking them faster than was probably safe with how much rain they had just got.

Yahaba wasn’t going to wait; he was already walking away.

“Wait!”

“Don’t bother, Kyoutani.”

He was ready to pretend nothing was wrong, and to pretend that Kyoutani meant absolutely nothing to him and never would.

“Wait.” He was stopped with a hand on his wrist - bitten nails and calloused palms from long hours worked. Shigeru felt a shiver go through his body at the contact.

“What?” He growled. He refused to look at him, the slick ground reflective, and showing Shigeru’s fraught face.

“I don’t want you to be my friend.”

His shoulders shook with repressed anger, “well fuck you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

He turned back around to stare. Kyoutani was blushing furiously, glaring at the hand he was holding. Slowly, Kyoutani let go of Yahaba’s hand, a defiant look on his face - it was equal parts adorable and endearing.

He couldn’t help the disbelief show through in his voice, “you love me, huh?”

Kyoutani flinched, head lowering even further. He looked like a lamb ready for the slaughter, a man on the guillotine.

Yahaba could destroy him. He didn’t know what was more important to him; his pride or his feelings.

He knew he had feelings for Kyoutani - had for the past while, but he knew this relationship was bound to crash and burn with how stubborn they both were.

“If the answer is ‘no’ just fucking say it.”

“I never said that.”

“Then what did you want to say?”

Yahaba could feel himself smirk.

“You’re cute.”

Kyoutani turned as red a tomato.

“That’s not a fucking answer!”

Before, being so close felt odd and awkward, but now all he wanted to do was get closer. Yahaba slowly moved towards Kyoutani, wanting nothing more than to hold his hand. While looking straight at Kyoutani, Yahaba softly touched the rough fingers that he craved for so long. It was like his exhaustion left him in a rush, a light shining in his chest he didn’t even know had gone out.

Travelling along the veins of his tanned skin, Yahaba watched as Kyoutani tried to stay still, even when his body seemed to hum and shiver with an energy that he too felt.

When their bodies were touching, palm to palm, chest to chest, he felt he was in love just that much more.

He crushed their lips together, sighing into the kiss. He backed away, their lips still grazing each other.

Yahaba smiled, “the feelings mutual.”


End file.
